Deceit Between Friends
by Morgan Lewis
Summary: In the wake of event in Teen Titans 5, two teammates meet to work out issues.


            This story was a result of two situations.  The first being that the ratio of Teen Titan cartoon fanfiction to Teen Titan comic fanfiction was far too large for my taste.  The second being that well, that would be telling too much now wouldn't it.  Suffice it to say, a rabid plot bunny attacked me and has been dogging me ever since.  For continuity buffs, this story takes place somewhere in Teen Titans issue 5, after the confrontation with Deathstroke/Jericho, but before the next day when Wonder Woman shows up.  Now that I have finally written and posted this thing, maybe I can get that stupid plot bunny off of my ass.

-ML

Deceit Between Friends

After returning from the battle with Deathstroke, we had all reached the unspoken consensus that any discussion of the younger Titan's behavior would wait until morning.  I had been rather pleased with my restraint in the matter, aided only by a few pointed glares from Vic and Gar.  Still, I could hardly resist giving Superboy a look that Donna had often described as the Tamarian death beam.  Thankfully, the young man retreated quickly under the gaze or I fear that the effect would have been completely ruined as thoughts of my recently departed friend still have the ability to reduce me to tears.

            Soon an unfamiliar feeling of lethargy engulfed the tower, and I quickly found myself to be the only one who had not already retreated to my quarters.  Thus, I sat alone in the plush chairs of the common room, trying desperately to understand how our first weekend with our young charges had gone so horribly wrong.  Young Bartholomew's injuries, Jericho's ghost, and Robin's deceptions continued to haunt me.  For a moment I considered if Slade, I still had difficulty believing that Jericho would turn on his former friends so completely, was correct in his assessment that we had no right to endanger these children.

            And thus I remained for some time, doubts plaguing my mind until my heart could no longer bear to dwell upon the mistakes of the past.  Exhaustion hung heavily from my eyes, prompting me to finally seek the solace of my own bed.  Yet, as I transverse the length of the hallway, I noted a light leaking out from under the door of the gym.  I had thought to be the only one that had not yet retreated to my bed.  Prompted by my curiosity, I quietly opened the door and padded into the room.

            I was surprised to see Robin, though I probably should not have been.  His clan often keeps late hours and he was no exception in that regard.  He had removed his cape and vest, though not his mask I noted, and was flowing through a series of forms.  There was no doubt in my mind that he had been aware of my presence even before I entered into the training room, but he still gave no indication of my arrival.  His silence actually suited me as it afforded me the opportunity to frankly appraise him.

            His face and body were still marred by the marks that Deathstroke had left on him.  Yet, despite the obvious discomfort of his recent wounds he still slid from stance to stance with a remarkable liquid grace.  I saw that he had already replaced his bo-staff and was currently employing it with a remarkable amount of skill.  Once again, I was forcefully reminded of Donna and the countless sparring sessions in which She and I had participated.  She never did defeat me cleanly, but her skill with the staff had always pressed me in our battles.

            A tight knot of emotion formed in my gut as I once again realized that my friend was gone.  The simple sight of this boy in front of me, garbed in the familiar colors of my lost love only demonstrated more forcefully how much had truly changed.  Yet, despite the similarities in height and coloring, I could not help but see how truly different these two where from each other.  This boy would never achieve the easy, fluid grace with which Dick had been born.  Yet, there was an economy of movement, a sense that no motion was wasted, to the boy's forms that I could not remember seeing in Dick's style.

            The differences didn't end there, a fact that had been painfully demonstrated to her earlier this evening.  I am not not nearly as naïve now as I was when I first came to this world, nor am I as innocent.  Yet, this boy deceived me with the same ease that I breathe air.  I had trusted Dick implicitly, mainly because even from the beginning, his face was an open book to me.

            I see that Robin has finished his exercises for now and is walking towards me.  He has exchanged his staff for a towel and drapes it over his shoulders.  Beads of sweat drip from his forehead and matte his hair.  Once again I am amazed by how much he reminds me of both his predecessor and his mentor at the same time.  As he approaches he looks at me with curiosity in his eyes, or perhaps it is impatience, I cannot say.  I have learned now that I cannot truly judge his moods.

            He waits now and I see that I am to be the one that speaks first.  I open my mouth to comment on the kata he just completed, or perhaps to compliment him on his form.

            "You lied to me."

            In the ensuing silence I curse my traitorous tongue.

            "You lied to me."

            Well, Dick always told me that she preferred the strait forward approach, but even so I'm a bit surprised at her directness.  An uncomfortable silence stretches between us as I contemplate a possible response.  I doubt she would appreciate a cheeky comment about how I lie to Batman, so she shouldn't feel special.  That sort of thing works with Kon and Cassie, but I can sense that she wants a genuine response.

            Unfortunately I am at a loss to give her one.  How do I explain to someone that I barely even know that I have never really been truth-full with anyone?  I lie to my father, my friends, my mentor, my brother in all but blood, my girlfriend and my teammates.  I cannot think of one person with whom I have been completely honest.  And this fact weighs heavily on me at times.  I have become more adept at lying then anything else it seems.

            I sigh.  There is no response that I can give her that will satisfy.  "I did what I had to do Starfire."

            Anger flashes openly across her face and, surprisingly, I can see traces of hurt in her eyes as well.

            "I see," she responds coolly.  "You had to undermine my authority and turn me into the enemy of the same charges that I am seeking to help."

            Her emotions are leaking through heavily, something that Bruce would have criticized and I am tempted to do so as well.  I don't really want to have this conversation with Kory right now, and would like nothing better than to just walk away without explaining myself further.  She will not pursue this discussion, her feelings are too close to the surface and I know this fact embarrasses her.  Say nothing, just leave and I maintain the bat-mystique that Bruce has so carefully constructed.  Then, I remind myself forcefully, that I am not Bruce.

            "I simply led them, when you would not."

            Neither, unfortunately am I Dick.  I watch her eyes widen slightly as my words strike harder than I had intended.  And I berate my own carelessness.  I often wonder if I should even be here.  Dick founded the titans, Dick led the Titans, Dick would have been able to give an easy smile and put Kory at ease.  He would have been able to share his misgivings without accusing of fault.

            "And why did anyone need to lead them into danger?"  Her voice has turned from cool to cold now.

I want to tell her that what I knew about Cassie and Kon.  I want to let her know that keeping them confined to the tower while Bart was injured was a recipe for disaster.  I want to let her know that I understood and even sympathized her desire to keep us from harm, but that such a course of action would only produce the exact opposite of what she intended.    

            "Soldiers will follow a leader, or they will follow their emotions."  I nearly wince at the sound of my own voice, completely cognoscente of the fact that I sound just like my mentor.                     

            "They are not your soldiers, they are your friends!" she thunders.  Her face is almost level with mine now, and I can see the fire blazing in her eyes.

            "I know…." My voice trails off lamely, not wanting to complete the thought forming in my mind.  

            But she is relentless, "You know what?"

            "I know that I am not Dick, nor am I his replacement."  That same face, so full of anger suddenly recoils in surprise.  "And I think that my failure in this matter is the cause of a great deal of your anger."  Lord knows that I had dealt with Bruce's displeasure on several occasions for this same shortcoming.  

            Now her face wilts slightly in shame and I'm afraid that I have struck too hard once again.  Even to my own ears my observations sound more like a reprimand.  I swear if Nightwing were here right now he would probably smack me upside the head and tell me that I was channeling Bruce again.  Unfortunately, neither one of them is here right now, which means I have to find a way to clean up this mess I have made.

            "Listen," I continue carefully, "It's getting late.  We're both tired.  Nothing good can come from this now.  Maybe we should finish this in the morning."  I am pleased with the fact that I finally managed to say something to her without sounding like Bruce.  Surely she will understand the apology I just offered.  

            I give her my best non-Batman smile and turn to leave, when a firm hand grips my shoulder.  I turn and see that her eyes are still blazing, but no longer with anger.

            "We are not finished."

            I swear, Dick is laughing his ass off somewhere right now.

            "I know that I am not Dick or his replacement.  I think that my failure in this matter is the cause of a great deal of your anger."  I feel a great well of shame as the boy's statement hits its mark.  

            Indeed, from the moment I first learned that Batman had taken on a new protégé I had dismissed the fact as being another unworthy replacement.  Admittedly my judgment was colored by the manner in which Dick had been dismissed from his post.  Though he had said little on the matter, I knew Jason's appointment to the mantle had wounded him deeply.  When Jason had been killed, the wound deepened and caused a rift between Dick and his Mentor that was not mended for many years.  When Dick informed me that Bruce had taken on a new pupil, I had been concerned that we were doomed to revisit the mistakes of the past.  

            Yet, Dick gave his full blessing to this boy and watched from a distance.  At the time, I could not picture the small child, who had arrived unexpectedly at my doorstep looking for Dick, to be a capable successor.  I held my peace, and cautiously hoped for the best.  And this boy exceeded my every expectation again, and again.  

            Yet, even as he became the younger brother that Dick had always wanted, even as he drew Batman back from the dark abyss by the force of his presence, even as he deftly guided the rising generation of heroes, even as Gar and Vic convinced me that his presence was needed in the Titans, I compared him to Dick and found him wanting.

            "Listen," his voice breaks me out of my reverie.  "It's getting late.  We're both tired."  I am tired.  I know he barely feels the hour.  "Nothing good can come from this now.  Maybe we should finish this in the morning."

            Robin strikes his mark again, reminding me that with patience we will have this discussion.  I should not have pressed the issue now while my mind was weary.  I look at this boy and want to cry.  How am I supposed to mentor him?  He has no need for Dick's prowess in combat.  His words are weapon enough.

            But then, as he turns to leave, he gives a soft smile, not unlike the way Dick would smile when he wanted to say more but could not find the words.  And I am left in confusion once again.  That confusion quickly turned into frustration.  Why could this Robin not speak his intentions plainly as his predecessor had done?  I feel that during our exchange he has taken my full measure, yet given nothing in return.  And I am not satisfied with this arrangement.  Well, if he truly does wish to say more, then I shall have him say more.

            I grab his shoulder firmly and he looks at me with surprise, the first true emotion I have seen play across his face this night.  That fact alone firms my resolve.  "We are not finished."  

            I release his shoulder and stride purposefully towards the weapons rack.  I can see his bo-staff resting carefully next to one of its brothers.  After claiming both I stride back to the center of the training area and motion for him to join me.  Confusion and doubt display themselves openly on his face now and I cannot help a stab of satisfaction.  Reluctantly he joins me on the mat and I throw his weapon to him.

            I wait for him to catch the staff before bringing my own to the ready position.  "It was been long since I have used staffs to spar with another Titan."  Honestly, I have not even touched a staff since Donna died.  I almost feel vulnerable now engaging this young boy in the same activity.  But I will risk sharing a treasured memory of an old friend if it aids me in making a connection with a new one.

            His mask is now firmly in place once again so I can no longer accurately read his responses.  "Is this wise?"  He asks and once again I wonder how much those eyes truly perceive.

            "Honestly, I care not."  And then I attack.

            I launch a series of quick strikes, which he manages to parry with little effort.  Good, I have barely started and would hate to think that Dick's successor would fold under a few swift blows.  After another flurry of strikes and ripostes, we disengage.  He warily circles me, looking for openings and weaknesses, or perhaps just waiting for me to make a move.

            I feel I have learned more of him in these few exchanges then in an entire night of conversation.  His style is simply efficient, it is not meant to impress.  He is not a performer at heart, that would require him to reveal too much of himself.  And I can sense that he guards his identity as fiercely as his mentor.   

"Your forms are without flaw," I complement him genuinely.  He fights a little more defensively than perhaps he should, but I can find no other fault with his craft.  

            He does not respond to my banter and once again I am reminded that he is not Dick.  This Robin moves cautiously, keeping himself centered and low to the ground.  Dick would have already executed a series of flips and cartwheels that would have left me disoriented and pressed to keep track of him.  Dick would have pressed the attack when I attempted to disengage instead of falling back to re-assess his opponent.  Dick would not have left me to regroup…  Dick would not have left me…  Dick would not have left… But… he did.

            I am given no time to further time to dwell on my lost love as Robin launches his own attack.  The blows are not meant to strike, merely feel out my defenses.  I deflect them with ease and counter with an attack of my own.  The end of my staff slides beneath his defenses and strikes him in the abdomen.  He grunts quietly and quickly pulls away.  

            But I will not let him disengage and quickly move to press my advantage.  His moves are becoming more frantic now as he can barely ward off my blows.  I can taste the victory already and move to quickly end the conflict.  It is only too late that I realize my final strike leaves me over-extended.  He moves more swiftly than I had thought him capable and strikes my right hand.  I instinctively release the staff and before I can pull my weapon back he hooks it with the end of his staff and jerks it free from my left hand.  The motion unbalances me and I am forced to one knee.  Robin calmly holds the end of his bo-staff to my throat for a moment before withdrawing.  

            I realize that he has played me as skillfully now as when he lied to me earlier.  His excessive defense was a ruse designed to play on my impatience.  His frantic retreat was carefully calculated to draw on my more aggressive tendencies.  I am wrong, even in combat I have learned nothing of him.  Deception it seems runs deep within him, to his very bones.  

            A flash of anger clouds my senses.  Once again I have opened myself to him and am met only with lies.  I have shared a memory that should have been held sacred and have been made a fool.  Inexplicably I can feel hot tears leaking from the corner of my eyes.  I miss Donna and I miss Dick terribly.  But my friend is dead and my love has left me and those left to fill the void seem to barely tolerate my presence.

            "Honestly, I care not."  And I am left no more time to question wisdom as she is upon me.  

            She begins with a quick series of blows that I deflect and evade without much difficulty.  I know that she is testing me, trying to gauge what my ability level is.  But, I am more than familiar with combat and know how to prevent her from learning any more than I choose to reveal.  

            She is stronger than I am, that I can tell already.  And she's possibly faster than I am as well.  By all appearances I am overmatched in every way.  But, as Bruce would often say, if your opponent isn't better than you, then there really isn't any challenge in beating them.  

            "Your forms are without flaw," she says and I nearly blush at the compliment.  I can't remember the last time I received one from Batman.  

            Rather than respond I go over everything that I know about her from the Batcave's databases and from what Dick has told me.  I know from Dick that she is a consummate warrior.  She and Donna would spar often and Donna rarely bested her.  That means she would be confident in her own abilities.  It wasn't much but it was still something that I could use.

            I launch my first offensive and purposefully leave an opening for her to strike me.  It's early in the competition and I think she would prefer to use my weakness as a painful lesson rather than the finishing blow.  I'm correct in my assessment as the blow lands with more force than I would have hoped, but not enough to knock me to my knees.  

            Now I pull back from the fight and, as I had hoped, she quickly presses.  She is faster than me I realize and it is becoming more and more difficult to defend her attacks.  Still, her moves are becoming too aggressive and I can see the opening three moves before she finally moves to end the match.  

            She over-extends, leaving her right hand exposed and I quickly move to exploit the mistake.  An instant later her staff is skipping across the floor and she has fallen to one knee.  I hold my weapon to her throat to indicate that the match is mine, then pull away and move to collect her own fallen weapon.  It occurs to me that at this moment Dick would probably have some gentle yet witty comment ready.  As I bend to retrieve her staff a dozen possible remarks pass through my mind before I finally settle on one.

            But as I turn to voice it, it notice that she is still on one knee and has bowed her head.  I'm confused for a moment and that confusion quickly turns into alarm when I see the glistening of tears at the corner of her eyes.  Once again I berate myself for my carelessness.  I should have known that her emotions were playing to close to the surface for this confrontation to bear anything but bitter fruit.  I could sense from the beginning that she seemed to be investing more in this particular match than I was.  Unfortunately, I'm not Dick and couldn't ensure that her investment received its proper return.

            I approached her cautiously and uncertainly.  I had managed to make a bigger mess of things than even I had thought possible.  We are supposed to be a team here, and all I seem capable of is tearing us apart.  This was why I didn't want leadership anymore.  I had actually been somewhat relieved when Cassie had been voted the Leader of Young Justice.  It had allowed me to focus more on Greta at the time.  Unfortunately, I had managed to screw that situation up as well.

            I crouch next to the Tamarian princess, knowing that I was not the Robin she wanted comforting her right now.  But in the absence of her former love, anything familiar would have to suffice.  I am uncertain how to begin, so I just open my mouth and trust my instincts.

            "I can't fly you know."  She looks at me in confusion and I have to admit I'm pretty confused myself.  But there is something important that I need to say, its right on the tip of my tongue.  I just don't know what it is yet.  So I continue, hoping that my tongue will find the path that my mind cannot.  "I'm not that strong either."  She's looking even more lost.  So, I plow ahead, gaining strength.

"I don't really intimidate people that well, and I'll never be able to pull a quadruple somersault," I sigh.  I don't seem to be getting anywhere with this.  Suddenly, one of Shiva's earliest lessons comes back to me.  "I am a child, I am less than a child, I am nothing."

I risk a smile at her hoping that she will understand even though I do not.  "That is how my enemies see me and that is my power."  She meets my eyes and I pray that I won't have to say anymore.  I honestly don't know if I am capable of revealing more of myself.  I feel almost winded with what I have given her already.

He looks at me and offers another one of his rare smiles.  "That is how my enemies see me and that is my power."

            I look into his eyes and for the first time they seem open to me, even if only for a moment.  But in that moment I think I finally understand what it is that he cannot tell me plainly.  His secrecy is his strength.  So often I forgot that Dick was only a normal human, bereft of any power beyond what mortality gifted him.  So it is with this Robin as well.  But he does not possess his predecessor's ability to perform, to make those who watch him believe he is more than human by the strength of his personality alone.  But, neither does he choose to bludgeon those around him into submission with the force of his will, like his mentor.

            I feel my lips curving into a slight smile and can sense the relief coming off of him.  Perhaps this evening has not been a waste after all

I see the corners of her mouth turn up and I feel the tension leave my body.  I offer my hand, which she accepts graciously.  Her eyes no longer glisten but I can still see the emotion there, lurking in the corners.  Yet, I can also see the strength as well.  Often I had wondered what exactly Dick had seen in Kory all those years ago.  For a time I simply conceded that she was merely the redhead he could have at the time.  But staring into her eyes, seeing the depth of commitment, the level of love that she possessed for her friends, I no longer question Dick's judgment, except perhaps in discarding her.

Once she is on her feet I return her weapon to her.  "We can go for a little bit longer if you like.  But, don't expect too much.  I'm already worn out."  Now that she understands I feel that I can actually make the offer.

"I think we have accomplished enough for now," She replies, showing that my faith in her is not misplaced.  We have reached a truce of sorts, one that I hope can grow into a friendship.  

"Though one day you will have to teach me that maneuver."  I have to laugh at her temerity.  Clearly she intends to let the truce become nothing but a friendship.

Together we place our staffs back in the weapons rack.  I don't remember the last time that a sparring match has taken so much out of me.  It is barely past one in the morning yet I am already longing for my bed.  Still, weariness is a fair price to pay for any workout that yields results.  And I am quite pleased with the results that I have achieved tonight.  

I am almost loathe to ruin the moment, but I feel I owe her a warning at least.  "You realize that in the morning we will probably have to go through this all over again."

A thoughtful look crosses her face and I can see that she has taken my warning in the spirit that it was given.  "I suppose we will.  However," she pins me with a gaze that I remember Dick describing as the Tamarian death beam, "you will not best me with your cheap tricks once again."

We stare at each other for a few moments before she finally cracks and begins to giggle.  In moments we are both laughing so hard that my sides begin to hurt, well hurt more anyway.  And for the first time, I'm actually beginning to think that it's a good thing that I am here instead of Dick.


End file.
